


Redefinition

by BloodEnvy



Category: Guardians of the Galaxy (Movies), Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Angst, Angst and Porn, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Light Angst, Porn, Porn with Feelings, Sex, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-18
Updated: 2018-08-18
Packaged: 2019-06-29 04:49:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,352
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15722304
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BloodEnvy/pseuds/BloodEnvy
Summary: You and Peter have been seeing each other for a while, but neither of you have made move to actually define what you have. When you catch him kissing another woman, you’re forced to confront both him and your feelings.





	Redefinition

It was an odd sensation, to feel a half-formed smile freeze on your face. It was like you didn’t quite understand a joke – the smile wanted to continue but your brain wouldn’t let it, so it stayed awkwardly on your lips, itching like a new tattoo. Maybe that was fitting; it could be a permanent mark of your damn foolishness. You could have that smile tattooed on your face and the cause stamped in your mind forever.

Because there it was, right in front of you, plain as that stupid, painful smile on your face. Peter Quill, the infamous Star Lord, wrapped in another woman’s embrace. His lips were on hers, her arms around his neck.

Maybe it was foolish after all, falling for him in the first place. You’d heard enough snide remarks about his exploits from Gamora and Rocket when you’d first joined the Milano’s crew, and he hadn’t been exactly shy about sharing stories either. Not to the mention the number of times you’d found a disheveled girl slinking out of the ship on your way to the bathroom in the morning. But you hadn’t been able to help it and apparently neither had he; you were both exactly what the other needed. You were a nostalgic reminder of home and an exciting promise of the future.

You’d bonded easily over music and similar senses of humor, and it had been ridiculously endearing how excited he’d been to meet someone who actually understood his references. So, somewhere along the line the two of you had fallen together, and while you’d never discussed exactly what your relationship was, he’d stopped bringing women home and none of the Guardians had thought you’d needed to.

But apparently you’d been wrong about that.

You felt Drax bump into your back, and you stumbled forward slightly. You head his impatient voice but didn’t register the words. The rest of the crew had been piling out of the bar behind you, drunk and loud and high on the success of a job a well done, and you’d been laughing at something Rocket had said. A petty jibe at a guy who’d cut in front of the two of you at the bar.

“Y/N? You wanna move your ass?” Rocket’s voice was caught on the end of his rambunctious guffaw, but you could hear confusion ring in it when you didn’t answer. You couldn’t, because at the sound of your name, Peter had pulled away from the woman’s lips like he’d been hit with a bucket of cold water. She didn’t seem to notice, her lips moving teasingly to his neck and jaw as he turned a wide-eyed gaze on you. The surprise in them flashed to realization before it turned to guilt. “Y/N? What the hell is wrong with you?”

Peter pushed the girl gently away from him just as Gamora stepped lithely past the others to stand by your side. Her eyes were on you for the briefest moment before she followed your gaze. Her eyes narrowed as they reached Peter. “You—”

“Don’t,” you said quietly, holding up a hand. Gamora’s astounding amount of self-control won over, and she silenced herself immediately. Still, you were sure that if you looked her way, disgust would be marring her pretty features. “Don’t bother.”

“I didn’t—” Peter started, stepping towards you. You shook your head, turning and heading down the street towards the ship before he could continue. You heard Peter try and speak again, undoubtedly making move to follow you, but he was cut off by Drax and you forced yourself to tune them out as an argument broke out between the rest of the Milano’s crew. You could feel your eyes burning with tears, and you folded your arms over your chest as if it would somehow stop the feeling that your heart was about to fall out.

It wasn’t until you were boarding the Milano again that you heard Peter’s voice again, out of breath and pleading as he caught up with you. His hair was mussed, and there was a small cut under his eye that hadn’t been there when you’d left. You could see a bruise beginning to bloom around it. You couldn’t hear the others though; he must have run the whole way back once he’d gotten past them. You could only imagine the words Rocket had chosen for the occasion.

“Wait! Just wait, please…” he caught hold of your wrist when he reached you, squeezing it gently and you stopped. Your skin was cool from the night air, and his always-warm hand took away some of the chill. You swallowed. “C’mon, Y/N, I—”

 It was your name that did it.

You spun around, ripping your arm out of his grasp and slapped him hard across the cheek before you could think about it. He grunted as pain burned in his cheek and in your palm, and you tightened your jaw determinedly in an effort to stop your bottom lip from quivering. You weren’t a particularly violent person, much to the chagrin of Rocket and Drax, but part of you gained a sort of sick satisfaction at the sight of your handprint on his cheek, half-hidden by his own hand.

“Okay. I deserved that.”

“You’re an asshole, Peter Quill,” you bit out, and you felt a tear roll over your cheek despite your efforts to stop it.

“I know,” he agreed quietly, dropping his hand from his face. “I think Rocket’s puttin’ it on my tombstone.” He hesitated before stepping towards you, and you shuffled back haltingly, folding your arms tightly across your chest.

“Don’t touch me, Quill.”

He stopped, regret heavy in those eyes you usually loved so much. “…You never call me that.”

You shrugged a shoulder. “I should be calling you a lot worse.”

“You’re right,” he nodded, ducking his head. “You’re right. But, baby, please listen to me. I didn’t—”

“Didn’t what? Mean to?” you almost laughed. “Is that what you were going to say?”

“I… I didn’t think.”

You scoffed, rolling your eyes. “You never do.”

Turning on your heel, you swallowed the bitter taste in your mouth. You strode down the corridor to your shared bunk, intent on finding something to sleep in and begging Gamora and Drax to let you have your old hammock back in theirs. Considering the venom in her voice back at the bar, you didn’t think it would be too difficult.

Peter followed after you like a dejected puppy on your heels. He continued to fight for you acknowledgement as you searched for a shirt, trying to apologize or explain or… hell, you didn’t know. You weren’t interested in listening. It wasn’t until he let out a frustrated groan and grabbed hold of your shoulders that you were forced to look at him again. Unwilling to meet his gaze, you focused on his chest instead.

“Damn it, Y/N! Will you please just listen to me?!”

There was no anger in his frustration… maybe just desperation, and despite your own fury, you felt a pang of hurt on his behalf. Trying to ignore that, you forced yourself to scoff despite your tears.

“Listen to you? So, you can tell me what exactly? Some crap about how you were drunk? Or how we never really defined the fucking relationship, so this is all _my fault_? Because I was stupid and naïve, and I trusted you?” You shoved at his chest with every question, but he refused to let go of you. You felt like you were choking on your anger, your throat thick with tears. “That I let myself… No. I don’t want to hear it. I’m tired.”

“Well, you’re gonna hear it, Y/N.” he told you, his tone determined but his voice shaking, and his hands squeezed your shoulders. “You’re gonna listen to me. I need you to.”

“I don’t give a damn what you need, Quill!” you shouted. “Let me go!”

He complied immediately, holding up his hands as if he was surprised he’d been touching you at all.

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry, just…” he sighed, rubbing his neck. “Please. Y/N, please just let me say my thing, and then… then you can do what you’re gonna do.”

You stood there for what felt like an hour before you gave your own heavy sigh. You sat on the edge of the bed, arms wrapping protectively around yourself again. “Fine.”

He inhaled slowly before he moved to sit beside you. You tensed slightly. He leaned forward, one elbow resting on his knee. He ran his other hand through his hair and over his face as he gathered himself, before clasping it with the other between his legs. His eyes rested on them, and there was a long stretch of silence between the two of you for a while before he spoke again quietly.

“I… I was scared.”

You raised a brow, but your voice joined his as a murmur. “Of what?”

“Of…” he huffed a sigh, shaking his head. “I’m such a dick. I was… I’m scared of, well, you.”

You frowned. “Scared of me? Quill—”

“Maybe not of _you,_ but… of you and me. Of you and me and us and how… and how you make me feel.” You dared a peek at him, and his eyes were still on his hands, pointedly avoiding you. “I’m not… I don’t know how this whole thing works with me in it. This… relationship thing. I’ve gone all kinds of things with all kinds of women all over the galaxy, Y/N, but I’ve never done this. And maybe we never talked about what we were because I didn’t know what the hell I was going to say. Because I’ve never had these feelings before. I’m usually gone by morning.”

You forced yourself not to roll your eyes.

“But with you… I like the mornings. I like the stupid jokes the others don’t get, and the late nights where we just talk until we fall asleep, and the way you kiss my cheek every time you leave the cockpit, and the way you smile at me and the way you dance and… I like you. I like you more than I have any right to and more than I’ve ever liked anyone in the past and I sound like a complete idiot right now and I hear it, and I’m going to stop talking.”

He caught his breath, exhaling shakily. “But, yeah, Y/N. All this scares the absolute shit outta me.”

You could barely hear yourself speak when you finally did. It felt like your heart was pressing against your ribs so hard it would slice itself into pieces. “Then why did you—”

“Because I’m a fucking coward. Because I was trying to convince myself that I was still the same guy I’ve always been. So, when she kissed me… I didn’t stop her.”

“Did it work?” you meant to sound bitter, but instead you sounded kind of… hopeless.

He finally looked up at you, tears of his own shining in his eyes. You bit your lip, hesitating for a long moment before reaching over to slip your hand between both of his. Peter wove his fingers between yours, trapping your hand in the warmth of his calloused fingers.

“No.” he replied sadly. “And I should have known it wouldn’t.”

“Yeah…” you exhaled. “You should have.”

His fingers squeezed yours. “I’m sorry I did this to you, Y/N.”

You searched his eyes for some kind of sign of insincerity but found nothing. Your heart tightened in your chest. He was still squeezing your hand, like he was afraid of the moment you’d let go, and you returned the pressure in kind. You didn’t want to think about this anymore. You didn’t want to dwell on anything that made you hurt or to face your insecurities or his mistakes.

You just wanted to act.

So, you did.

“Quill.” You touched your free hand to his cheek. His eyes closed at the touch, and you leaned forward to press your lips to his.

It was feather soft at first; he didn’t immediately respond, too shocked to react. You slid your hand down the side of his neck and over his chest to tug at the collar of his jacket, pulling him closer. His breath caught against your mouth as he finally kissed you back.

Your teeth grazed his bottom lip as his hand alighted carefully on the side of your face, tickling the skin of your jaw. You felt his fingertips slid into your hair and you scooted closer to him, your knees bumping against his leg. His free hand came down to brush against your knee instinctively, teasing your bare skin. The kiss deepened quickly, and you shifted to straddle his lap without breaking it. Your torso curved to press against him, your fingers tightening their grip on his lapels.

Peter cradled your face in his hands as you broke away to catch your breath, his thumb brushing against your lips. Your forehead rested against his, both your chests heaving.

“Y/N…” he breathed your name, his eyes screwed shut. There was so much sorrow in that word. “Is this a goodbye?”

“I don’t know,” you admitted in a whisper, caught off-guard by the desperation in your own voice. You tugged at his jacket again, this time urging it down his arms. “I don’t know, Peter. I just… I need this. I need you. Please, Peter.”

He met your gaze for a moment with a weighted look before his lips claimed yours again. He released your face again long enough for you to shove his jacket off before his hands were tangling in your hair and he was deepening the kiss with a heady mix of teeth and tongue.

Wrapping your arms around his neck, you ground down against him and reveled the groan he gave in response. He took hold of your waist, guiding your hips into a teasing rhythm, his breath heavy. Bracing your hands on his shoulders, you peppered kisses along his cheek and jaw and his fingers tightened on your hips in a wonderful show of possessiveness as your teeth scraped against his pulse point. You felt the building sensation in your lower belly tighten as he released a shuddering breath.

Peter pulled you back for another kiss, only breaking away so the two of you could strip off your shirts and toss them aside. His hands took hold of your ass as his lips brushed over your collarbone, making your breath catch. Your name left his lips like a prayer as you ground against him, rolling your hips steadily. You were wearing a skirt, and you whimpered at the feeling of the rough denim of his jeans pressed against your clit through the thin lace of your underwear.

“Fuck, Peter…” you breathed, and you let out a squeak as he used his hold on you to lay out on the mattress, settling himself between your thighs. Kissing him again, your hands fumbled with his belt and the fastening of his pants. He braced himself above you with one hand, the other one sliding down your thigh to your knee, lifting it and hooking your leg around his waist. You used it to urge him closer, and he broke away from your lips to meet your eye. His expression was searching, and you felt your chest throb at the depth of his eyes.

“Y/N…”

“Peter, please…” you whimpered, pulling him out of his pants and stroking your hand slowly along the length. He gave a shuddering breath as you did, his eyes fluttering closed before his head fell to rest against your shoulder. You tangled the fingers of your free hand in his hair, and felt his lips press gently against the base of your neck. You grazed your teeth against his earlobe the way you knew undid him and squeezed the base of his cock teasingly. “I need you, Peter.”

You ghosted your lips over his, resting your forehead against his again. “Please.”

That was all it took, and he captured your lips again, his tongue pushing into your mouth as he reached between the two of you to tease you through the lace. He pushed them to side, and you used your hold on him to brush the head of his cock against your clit. The both of you let out a moan at the feeling.

“Fuck, Y/N…” he groaned. “You’re so fucking wet.”

You held his gaze as you positioned him, raising your hips until he slipped inside of you. He thrust his hips forward slowly to slide all the way in to the hilt. You moaned as he filled you, and he took up an agonizingly slow pace, his breath warm against your throat and his hand ghosting over your ribs.

It moved up to rest against the side of your throat, his thumb tilting your chin up to meet his eyes as he rolled his hips against you. You licked your lips nervously.

“I’m so sorry, Y/N,” he whispered imploringly, and your teeth dug into your bottom lip. “I’m sorry. Please, don’t leave.”

“Peter…”

“Please.” His voice broke slightly. “I love you.”

Your eyes widened, and you weren’t sure if you stopped breathing at his words or at the way he angled his hips, but you felt new tears well up in your eyes, so you pulled him down for another kiss to hide them. You could feel the earnestness in his lips, and his anguish, and when he broke away to bury his face in your shoulder you clung to him. Your hands gripped at his arms and back, your hips rising to meet his.

“I love you, Y/N.” he murmured against your skin, and you couldn’t help but moan. “I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you…”

He repeated those words until you felt your release break inside you, and you came with a strangled moan of his name. His hips jerked unsteadily as you clenched around him, his own orgasm hitting him shortly after, coming with a shuddering breath against your skin that made you shiver.

Peter stayed braced above you on shaky arms for a few long moments, unwilling to lose contact with you before he slipped out of you and rolled onto his back. His eyes were closed tightly.

You watched him, ignoring the way your skirt was bunched around your waist, until his breathing slowed. Tears gathered in your throat again, and you carefully slipped your hand into his between the two of you.

“Peter?”

He didn’t open his eyes, but you felt his hand tightened around yours.

“I… I think I love you, too.”

“You don’t have to—”

“Peter, please look at me.”

He slowly turned his head to face you, eyes opening.

“I… I’m not saying I know where we stand here. And I…” you swallowed. “I’m not saying that I’m not scared too. I just… I just know I don’t want to go anywhere you aren’t.”

Peter closed his eyes, a tear rolling down his cheek. You raised the hand enclosed in his to wipe it away with the back of it, and he hissed as it touched the cut under his eye. He kissed the back of your hand softly.

“Who did that to you?”

“Gamora,” he replied, raising an arm to show you the beginnings of a bruise on his ribs. “That was Drax.”

“Christ.”

“It’s nothing I didn’t deserve.”

You rolled over to face him, and he tugged you over to curl against his side. He wrapped an arm around you, his other hand covering yours as it came to rest on his chest. “I’m not going to argue with that.”

“You shouldn’t.”

“’Cause you’re a jerk.”

“Agreed.”

“A regular Jerk-Lord.”

He gasped. “Well, that’s just cruel.”

You giggled, burying your face into his chest. “You deserved it.”

Peter pressed his lips to your hair. “I really love you, Y/N. I’m sorry I’m such an idiot.”

**Author's Note:**

> First time writing Peter, so let me know what you think! (Especially because this is more angsty, and I want to make sure he still seems in character)


End file.
